Not in Blood, but in Bond
by AlchemyBetweenThem
Summary: Irene's thoughts during the explosion at the Queenshithe Slaughterhouse. One-shot.


**Hey everyone! Here are my thoughts about Irene's thoughts (a lot of thoughts!) during the explosion at the Queenshithe Slaughterhouse, which is to me one of the best scenes from Guy Ritchie's movie. **

**The title of this story refers to the song used in this scene (Mr. Zimmer, I love you!). Of course, everything you recognize is not mine. **

* * *

"Thank you," Irene said to the doctor as Holmes took a slide from her sweaty hair to unlock the handcuffs that were imprisoning her waists. Seeing how fast he did it, she wondered briefly why he took so long to break in her room at The Grand. She barely heard Watson saying that he was getting after Blackwood.

The detective gave her that 'you don't deserve it' look. It didn't bother her, she was used to it... After all, he could have let her handcuffed, just as she did into the hotel room. But she had no choice, and she had to admit it : it had entertained her. If she could have seen his face when he had discovered that he was naked and handcuffed to the bed... It would have been priceless. But she had been nice : she had let him a pillow to cover what had to be covered.

Once Holmes released her, she rushed towards her saviour and embraced him. She whispered a 'thank you' in his ear, and kissed his unshaven skin while inhaling his smell. She had never been happier to see him, and to feel his presence next to her. Holmes wasn't at ease when someone tried to show his or her affection and gratitude. He hid his embarrassment by attracting her attention to his friend Watson, who was pursuing Blackwood, alone. He probably needed their help. But at the moment, she didn't want to move. No, they were good here.

"We should help the doctor."

And, once again, he freed himself from her embrace. She already missed his warmth, but decided to follow him. Maybe she could help them, they just saved her life. Without their presence, she would have been burnt, or cut in two. She thought about how frightening could have been these mortal experiences.

Holmes got out of the building, and so did she. He was faster than her, worried about his friend. She suddenly heard the doctor shouting Sherlock's name, before a huge detonation deafened her. Oh Dear, what did just happen? She turned her face to see Holmes being thrown to the ground by another explosion.

She couldn't move, or think, and the third one exploded near her : it was her turn to land on the filthy and cold paving. The contact between the ground and her head was painful. If she did escape to death twice this night, she wouldn't be that lucky this time. When she looked up, she saw Holmes, trying to protect himself from the fire with a piece of wood, and running towards her. Another explosion, and another, but he stayed on his feet.

As she was standing up, his foot slipped, and he fell next to her. Irene's first reaction was to help him to stand up, but he was faster than her, and stronger : he took her hand and pulled her by the arm. She felt so weak. They supported each other, his protective hand resting on her shoulder, and they made straight for Watson. Unfortunately, the duo was stopped by another explosion, a most powerful one, and she could feel the heat of the fire on her face as she was pushed away by the violent detonation.

Her back was hurting. Turning her face towards Holmes, their eyes met. Deep blue meeting dark green. There was no need to talk, everything was said through this look : panic, weakness, pain, and anxiety. All of this was just a beginning, something bigger was coming next, both could feel it. If she could escape from this terrible situation, for a minute, maybe everything would be arranged. But she didn't have time for this. One more glance at Holmes, and all her thoughts disappeared while she fell into unconsciousness.

**XXX**

She woke up with a jump, the sky was still dark. She wondered briefly where she was, and she remembered : Holmes and Watson saving her from the death, the explosions, the detective's look. She turned her head : he was still here, lying on the ground, his eyes closed. Like this, he looked so innocent, defenceless. His brown hair were thickened with dust, and his beautiful face was covered with cuts, but he didn't seem to be really wounded. A man who was boxing for his own pleasure would survive to a few scratches.

Irene stood up with difficulty, and coughed. Her lungs were probably full of smoke. One more time, she looked at _him_. Maybe, this time, Holmes was right. Maybe she was in over her head. Just a bit.

**XXX**

Holmes woke up a few moments later. He couldn't hear anything. A smell of burning was filling the air. He tried to distinguish Adler somewhere near him, but she wasn't there. She had gone. For once, she had listened to him.

THE END.


End file.
